Memoirs of a Married Womanizer

She came up to our table and in a German accent, stated her name as Donna and she would be our waitress. She then began taking orders for our drinks.

When she got up to me, I could see a 'look of need' in her eyes. I motioned to her with my finger to come closer. She leaned in toward me and I ordered a club soda with a twist of lemon. I don't drink and I didn't want everyone to hear me place my order, otherwise people will sometimes say, "Oh, come on, have a real drink."

During the meal I excused myself to go to the rest room. The rest room was at the end of a long wide hallway. Halfway down the hallway, there was a window with a counter to the bar, where the servers got their drinks.

Donna was standing at the window waiting for an order, while watching me walking towards her. She was smiling and when I got up to her, she remarked, "If I were only ten years younger."

She was thirty-five and I was twenty-five. Smiling back at her, I replied, "If I thought I had the slightest chance with you, I wouldn't hesitate in a heart beat."

She replied, "I finish work at nine tonight."

Without even thinking, I answered her, "I'll be here."

After lunch, we were driving back to work and the guys were all talking about how beautiful and sexy she was. I said nothing, I didn't want them to think that I was a womanizer.

That afternoon I called my wife and told her that I would be working very late, that I had another dead line to meet.

That night, just as she said, Donna came out of the restaurant. She got into my car and said that she lived in an apartment building within walking distance. As I drove, she told me that she was going through a divorce. She had been living in Germany, where she met and married a U.S. Air Force captain. After a year of marriage, they were transferred back to the states and after five months of living here, she discovered that he was a homosexual. He married her because he wanted her to attract men for him, so she said.

She went on, about how her insurance man, who is also her boyfriend, is helping her with her divorce. He is a man in his late fifties and he set her up with her own apartment. He is going through a divorce himself and when the divorces are final, he will marry her.

What am I getting myself into? What do I care? I'm so sexually deprived and too much aroused. My need to copulate was the greatest I've ever experienced in my life. Nothing else mattered.

In her apartment, I began a ritual of slowly undressing her, caressing, kissing, feeling, licking each newly exposed area of her flesh. It had been so long since I had made love to a woman. I suckled her breasts for the longest time, working my way down to her navel and then on to her genitals.

She knew where I was going, so she stopped me, saying, "Wait baby. I've been working all day. Let me take a quick shower, I'll be right back. I gotta be nice and fresh for you."

When she returned, she had the scent of soap and perfume on her. How I love going down on a woman; licking her nectar, while she bucks, squirms, thrashes about and cries out passionately with every organism, all at the mercy of my mouth and tongue.

She said that she was on the pill, so we made love unbridled. We copulated three times that night, which would become my routine. I felt so completely satiated. That night when I got home, I climbed into bed and very quickly, fell into a deep sleep. I no longer had to masturbate in order to sleep.

Donna was so different from my wife. From the very first time that my wife and I had intercourse, once she has an organism, that's it for her, she gets very sleepy and has to sleep, which always leaves me hanging. Donna on the other hand, could never get enough. The more I gave her, the more she wanted and she was twelve years older than my wife.

Donna and I continued to see each other for about three months, usually on Monday nights as she was off on Mondays. I had school on the other evenings and on the weekends, she was with her boyfriend.

It was around the end of the three months, when Donna said to me, "I think I'm pregnant." I became terrified. To have a baby out of wedlock, is the fastest way to poverty. It is the reason I stayed a virgin till I got married.

Yes, there were many times when I was growing up, that I could have gone all the way with a girl. I could have used a condom but I was afraid that the condom would break. I heard stories, then the boy would have to pay child support until the baby was twenty. Having a child out of wedlock would mean a life of poverty. Donna was beautiful and sexy but I knew, that I would never want to marry her.

She saw the panic in my face and laughed, saying, "I'm only kidding," and she was, but it shook me up. I had to end this relationship, so I slowly, and very carefully got out of it. I didn't want her to make trouble for me and she could have.

It's so easy to get into a relationship but so difficult to get out of. Hell hath no furry, like a woman scorned.

I made a rule; never fool around with a single girl or a woman in a bad marriage.

It would be a year later when I saw Donna again. I was walking in a shopping mall and I saw her walking toward me. She was arm and arm with an older man, he looked old enough to be her father. When she saw me, she turned her face away and refused to look at me. Just when we were passing by each other, she looked at me, smiled and winked. It was obvious that she was pregnant.

After breaking up with Donna, I had now acquired a taste for extramarital sex. I was hungry for more and there was Laura. Laura looked very much like my wife, very voluptuous with full rounded hips, firm buttocks, large breasts and a mouth with full puffy lips. Being the same age as my wife, I would say that Laura was probably my wife's counterpart.

It was the first day of work at my new job, early that morning in the cafeteria, I was sitting with my manager and a group of engineers, when I first saw Laura. Our eyes met and I saw that 'look of need' in her eyes. She was walking with another girl coworker and they took a table next to mine. She placed her coffee on the table, then turned to me and asked if she could borrow the sugar from my table. I said, "Sure, go right ahead."

Then my manager said to her, "Laura, you have sugar on your table."

Looking at me and in a sensual tone, she replied, "Yeah, I know. I just want his." Everyone looked at me and smiled and I could feel my face getting red.

My manager told me she was married to a very jealous man, who owned a fleet of taxicabs. She didn't have to work but she wanted to get out of her house five days a week. She was a little forward. Up until this point, I tried to avoid her but now that I was always in a high state of sexual arousal, she didn't look so bad, in fact, she was now very tempting.

Upon ending my relationship with Donna, I asked Laura if she wanted to meet me one night for a cup of coffee. She answered, "Sure! How about tonight."

I didn't have school that night so I said, "Yeah, I'll meet you tonight. Where at?"

She replied, "Here in the company's parking garage. Top floor."

The company did government work, so we had to show our ID to the armed guards before entering the employee's parking area. She felt it was the safest place for her.

That night we met at eight o'clock. She got into my car and said, "You know, I can't go riding all over town with you. One of my husband's drivers may see me. I know where there's a motel close by that we can go to."

After we made love, we lay there talking. She told me that she had to be careful at work. "I'm having an affair with my Manager," she went on, "Well, not an affair. He's fucking me. It started about two and a half years ago. I thought I would like it at first but very quickly, I didn't and now, I can't get out of it. If I try to break it off, he will fire me. He has a single friend, who has an apartment close by, so he takes me there one or two times a week, at lunch time and he fucks me."

At work, I didn't have any dealings with her boss but after she told me that, I felt strange the times I was around him. After all, I was now putting my mouth and tongue in a place, where he was sticking his cock and ejaculating.

She went on and told me that she has two babies, one is two and the other is four. She said that she married a Momma's Boy. That they live with his mother, in her house. Besides taking care of the children, his mother does all the cooking, cleaning and washing. His father passed away a few years ago, so her husband never wanted to leave his mother alone. She said that when they got married, her husband moved her into the same bedroom that he grew up in.

Laura said that her husband gave her the big, bright, red Cadillac convertible that she drives. His taxicabs are radio dispatched, and his drivers can spot her car where ever she goes. He is very jealous and suspicious of her. The only freedom she gets is when she comes to work.

One Friday night I drove Laura back to her car. It was raining and we sat in my car talking for a little while. My windshield fogged up and in the mist, Laura wrote, "Laura loves Jack." She then drew a heart around it and we smiled at it.

Then she had to go but before she got out of the car, she brushed her hair with her blue hair brush, saying that she had to look neat before she went into her house.

The following Saturday morning, it was still raining and I had to drive my wife some place. We got into the car and my wife was struggling with her umbrella, when I noticed Laura's hair brush on the seat between us. Before my wife could see it, I slipped it under my leg and then, while I was driving, I opened my door and dropped it on the road.

Then my wife said, "Dam it! I just had my hair brush in my hand and now I can't find it."

"What color is it?" I asked.

"Blue, it's my blue brush," she said.

I looked over at her and I was struck with terror. The windshield had fogged up and right there, in front of my wife's face, the bold lettering from the night before, Laura loves Jack. My wife was bent over, looking under the seat for her lost hair brush while I franticly wiped the windshield.

So, for about a year, Laura and I would get together one night every two or three weeks. Our trysts were a mutual accommodation to satisfy each others carnal needs.

Then Maggie walked into my life. She was forty-eight and I was twenty-six. Don't know why, but I fell in love with her. That relationship lasted five and a half years, till a job offer forced me to move away from her.

Maggie taught me the joys and pleasures that only an experienced, mature, married woman can give a younger man. They have a sense of family, that their family comes first but they also have a need to be a sensual woman. It's a need that I don't think they are aware of.

They go to the supermarket and do the food shopping. They wait at the check out, staring at the magazines and tabloids, which display, who is sleeping with who. Romance is gone from their lives. Their husbands may be the only man that they have ever known and now he may have grown a paunch and seems disinterested in her. When they married, all too quickly the spark had died.

These mature women are volcanic, filled with pent up sexual passions and emotions. They are very much like virgins. Their bodies are still beautiful, still sensual and lusting to be touched, to be taken.

To a younger man like me, they are the low hanging fruit. The fruit with the sweetest juice. I see it deep in their eyes, that 'look of need.' A look that seems to say, "I want you. I want you to take me. Help me give up my fidelity. Please help me to experience another man. Show me how to do it."

I've read love stories in woman's romance magazines, stories written by woman. The stories all have the same recurring theme; "He swept me off my feet. I was powerless. He knew what he wanted and he took it."

Women are so easy and delightful to talk to. The secret is, they love talking about themselves. For instance; when I first meet a girl, I'll ask her, "Do you remember your first day in kindergarten?" From there, she will tell me about kindergarten, first grade, second grade, her first training bra, her first kiss and on and on with very little prodding from me. There is very little effort on my part, in making conversation.

The funny thing, if not strange, about these conversations, is that at the end of the evening, she will say to me, "Gee, I enjoyed talking with you. You are so interesting."

Whenever I begin a sexual relationship with a woman, I will compliment her on her perfume and ask her the name of it. Then I will purchase a bottle of it and give it to my wife as a gift. This way my wife doesn't smell any strange perfume on me, not that she could anyway, because she is a smoker, so her sense of smell is impaired.

Susan

It was a Friday night, when two of my colleagues and I went out to dinner to celebrate a project we had just finished. I was thirty three years old at the time. After dinner, we retired to the bar area, where there was a small band playing with dancing.

Later in the evening, two middle aged women entered the bar. They sat at a cocktail table and the waitress took their order. They looked to be in their late forties, early fifties. The taller woman had a nice figure with large breasts, showing some cleavage. They were dressed conservatively and the other woman was more of a Plain Jane type. I like the Plain Jane's. They can sometimes be a diamond in the rough.

A man, about their age, asked the taller woman to dance. She refused at first but then he took her hand and persisted. The Plain Jane urged her to go a head and dance, so she did. That left the Plain Jane sitting alone.

I have a rule that I live by; Never let a woman sit alone, so I stepped into her life, by asking her to dance. We danced several dances and I found out that she and her girl friend had gone out shopping and on the way home, they decided to stop for a drink. They had heard about this place, so they wanted to see what it was like.

She was happily married for the past twenty seven years with two grown children. I told her that she reminded me of some famous, beautiful actress and she was flattered. I knew that the next time she sees that actress, she will think of me and what I said. I could tell by her body language, that she liked the attention I was giving her and her eyes had that 'look of need'.

Later on in the evening, I said to her, "Meet me back at this place next Wednesday night and I'll take you out for a cup of coffee. I'd just like to see you again." She declined my offer. After a while the ladies said they had to leave, so I walked them out to their car. While walking her to the car, I said, "Wednesday night, I will be here waiting for you, just in case you change your mind."

She smiled and said, "I don't think so."

I replied, "Think about it."

Just before she got into the car, I asked her for a kiss good night. We kissed on the lips, not a long passionate kiss but a kiss as the first step in my taking her. As we broke the kiss, I whispered, "Eight O'clock, Wednesday night."

She said no, but I know, that when she returns to her home and her life of drudgery, she will subconsciously begin setting the ground work for it to happen.

She may tell her husband, that they stopped for a drink but she won't tell him about me and she doesn't know why, but she will leave her Wednesday night open.

I could never meet a woman and copulate with her on that very first meeting. I love the build up, the waiting, the anticipation of knowing, that in a few days, I will have her. That I will feel her smooth, soft, naked body and smell and taste her nectar.

That Wednesday night, I sat at the bar from seven thirty. At five after eight, she appeared in the doorway, full of apprehension, like a young girl about to give up her virginity.

It's very erotic when they surrender to their own sexual passions. They become so timid, so passive and so submissive. I have to be so gentle with them and yet so firm for I am now their master.

I put my drink down and went straight to her. Taking her arm in my hand and saying, "This place is too noisy. I know a nicer place." I walked her out to my car and then drove straight to a hotel, as there were no motels in the area. She waited in the car while I registered and then I led her to the room, where I deflowered her fidelity.

We made love until eleven o'clock that night and then she had to be home before she would be missed.

The following week, we met and made love again. After, we laid there talking and she confided in me, that all week long, she felt so guilty about what she had done. Her husband was a loving, caring man and didn't deserve to have a cheating wife. She went on, about how she could not look him in the eye and he kept asking her, if she was okay or was anything wrong?

She said, "I'm sorry but I just can't go on with this. You're a wonderful lover but I'm not able to do this sort of thing. It's just not in me."

She was under a lot of anxiety and stress and I didn't want to pressure her anymore than I had. We made love again that night, but we both knew, that it was to be our last.

After Susan, I started a relationship with another mature, happily, married woman and after several trysts with her, she too was overcome with feelings of guilt.

For them, it's all very exciting at first, then the guilt sets in and they start to get depressed and talk about confessing to their husbands.

So, after two attempts at trying to establish a long term sexual relationship with a mature woman, I gave up and returned to girls of my own age.

I'm not proud of my indiscretions and I like to think, that I, in some way, enhanced the marriages that I intruded upon. I'm an old man now and I can still see, that 'look of need' in the eyes of some women. What saddens me, is that I sometimes see that 'look of need', in the eyes of a young girl. A girl, whose father has abandoned her.

End